The Splintered Illusion
by Pawesome Kat
Summary: He wanted to keep his image pristine as the day it began of being the monster of Whoville, though one child who landed on his mountain by mistake may change everything. AU Grinch x Martha May OC
1. The Beginning

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the following characters except for one.

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><p><strong>~*~*~<strong>**The Beginning****~*~*~**

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><p>Just on the stroke of midnight, a litter of pumbersella's swirled and danced in the icy air. Each were colorful with baby blue colors, and various were sent into a downward decent to Whoville grounds, a town filled of Who's. One by one, cries broke the silence in the air from the children, but one.<p>

A pumbersella just skirting the group contrasted the others with its looks alone. The umbrella attached to the basket in which a baby laid was in a bad state. The canopy that allowed flight was chancing falling away with its tatters marked into the fabric. Dirt and animal feces were strewed across the umbrella, taking away its natural colors. Endangering the child wiggling around in the confines of blue and green blankets was the threat the cold gave off with its cold bites. Just luckily, the hair coating its body supplied warmth, but that alone was not a barrier that would hold for much longer, even with the assistance of blankets covering it.

A warning knell was played as a signal that the children were coming to their chosen parents from Whoville. Heads of Who's peeked out from the threshold of their doorways, cupping reddened hands around their eyes to see through the white haze in search of a pumbersella. Wishful prayers were sent in hopes that _"this is the day our family is complete." _And as the babies were sent to doorsteps, no one noticed the gale that sent one particular pumbersella off track.

The wind pushed with harsh blasts of snow flurries, driving the child north to Mt. Crumpit. Through all the whips of cold, not one sound had left the victim of the cruel treatment nature brought to it without freewill. Instead the baby just clenched tiny fists into its covering, smacking gums all the while as the chill of winter brought nothing but discomfort to its small form.

No hope seemed to be left for the child as it could not cry out with wales of help. The newborn, ever since descending from the heavens, would forever hold a serenity of quietness.

As one final gale of air shoved the child into something solid, resulting in a loud _'THUD'_ and a jostle of balance as it fell against rock, the baby only hoped for one thing: a savior.

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><p><strong><span>To new readers: <span>**_The story has romance in it between the Grinch and Martha May. Though that coupling will come later in the story as that is not of focus right now, but I advise readers to continue on. _

_This story is not really a Christmas story, and it takes place before the Grinch became "good-hearted". This is just a twist in the "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" time line._

**_To older readers:_**_ So this chapter was edited, and hopefully a little bit longer than the original. Please, again, do not complain about the length. With revising will come more of a small scroll bar as I will be adding more with my rewriting. _


	2. The Cries

Max's ears lifted one centimeter off his head. There was an odd noise echoing through-out his Master's abode that didn't belong.

He lifted his head off his front paws to glance around his and the Grinch's home to see if it was any machinery that the Grinch perhaps forgotten to turn off when he decided to hit the sack. But nothing was on, no machinery hiss; clanking or even a peep—only that odd noise. Hearing as the noise was probably not coming from his inside his owner's lair, he got up from his sleeping position and cantered over to the green wooden door that leads to the outside world, to which a storm bloomed. Giving a quick fleeting glance over to the Grinch who snored as he slept on his bed with a pint of drool rolling down out of his mouth, he turned back to the door and pressed his ears onto it to listen for the sound that had awoken him from his slumber. After a break in the gusts of wind outside, he heard it. Now he could extinguish it as a cry. The cry almost sounded like—

His golden-brown eyes enlarged a little, it was a baby's cry.

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><p>If the Grinch could name any word in the Who-Dictionary about how he was feeling, it would be the word exhausted. The reason for his awakening—the sounds of something whimpering and sounds of something sharp make contact with…wood? It was probably a wild animal pleading for him to let them into his home for warmth and to get out of the storm, he figured. Turning onto his side with his eyes still closed shut; he waited to hear if the noise would let up. But when the noise became more frantic and a familiar barking started, he bolted upright in bed, peering around his home for the cause of the sound. Looking over to his front door, he looked to Max who at this time was scratching at the bronze door knob.<p>

"Max! What is the meaning of this?" He snarled, his voice betraying his tiredness. "I swear, you dumb dog, if you don't stop I will personally throw you outside! Is that what you want because I will gladly do it?" Max didn't stop though nor listen to his master. Instead, the scratching done with his claws became even more berserk than before—and more annoying. He looked to the door to see all the claw marks being inflicted upon it. _Great_, he mentally thought, _now I have to repaint that_.

Swinging his feet off the bed, he lifted himself up till he was standing, his indignation pumping off of himself in waves towards his dog; oh… wait till he gets his hands on him. He wobbled and tripped over his feet as he walked to the entrance of his home, finally walking straight once he got his footing, no longer looking like non-sober man coming out of a bar intoxicated. His little "tail-wager" of a dog now whimpered instead of scratching the hell out of his door when he approached.

"What's the matter, Max?" he grumbled. "I don't know about you, but I actually need sleep!"

That is when he heard the same noise that Max had heard—a distant crying.

"What in blazing gum balls?" he whispered confusingly. That crying was definitely not an animal. Sticking a hairy green pinky finger into his ear, he twisted the digit around for a second before pulling out and pressing his ear to the door much like the same way Max had.

Max looked up just in time to see his Master's eyes widen, but unlike himself, the Grinch swung the door open…if only he himself had a thumb…

When the Grinch had opened the door, what he was met with was a blast of cold air and snow, and shivers from his own body.

_'How could anyone live out here, especially a wild animal?' _he thought. Looking around, listening for the wails of what he thought was a baby; he turned in the direction of the cry once it was heard by his and his dog's ears again. Stepping one hairy bare-footed foot out, he pressed his foot into the snow.

"Holyjeebers!" he said. A zing, and an unpleasant one at that, ran up his spine with him shivering all the way. The nerves in his feet seemed to freeze immediately on contact with the snow. Max yipped walking out into the snow like it was nothing. "Ha, ha, funny Max, real funny," He sarcastically sneered, "Show off!"

After his outburst towards his dog, the Grinch peered around the haze of snow that only granted him view of only a few centimeters in front of his nose. He guessed blindly of where the noise was possibly pin-pointed. He chose to head in the North-West direction.

"C'mon Max," he bellowed over the yells of the wind. "I need your help! Use what the Who-God gave you—a sensitive nose!"

Max gave a ruff, though to his ears it was silent, the wind was over-powering other noises than the blows of the harsh air. Seeing as the brown fuzz ball started trekking off, he followed slowly behind. He didn't dare lift his feet off the ground in fear of tripping over an unleveled rock, so he dragged his feet against the ground for a safer, pain-free walking.

And he found that the cries were becoming louder, and louder_. And even louder._

'_We're getting closer….'_

"Come on Max, pick up the pace! Sooner we investigate, the sooner I'm warmer and the sooner I'm able to sleep!" He could've sworn he saw a little eye-roll from his dog.

Pacing at a leisurely pace, the cry him and his dog heard stopped—this time to long for good.

He growled at Max and at himself. _One_, his dog was walking like a snail, _two_, why did he care about what happened to the thing that was crying. Maybe his tiredness and the cold were numbing his common-sense and making his mind be coated in a thick fog.

A bark broke him from his thoughts. He looked down to Max who was looking down a little downward like himself, as if looking at something. His eyes widened in silent recognition.

Closing the distance between him and his pet, he peered over his dog to see a…an umbrella?

"What the hey?" he thought.

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><p><strong>EDIT (55/12): Fixed up some mistakes. You guys should re-read this if you'd like. Anyway, I'll be editing the other chapters as well. **

**Thank you for reading chapter 1! Chapter 2 shall be posted as soon as possible. Comment, fave, and all that.**


	3. Little Discovery

_You don't choose your family. They are God's gift to you, as you are to them._

—_**Desmond Tutu**_

**11 P.M. ON A NOVEMBER WEDNESDAY NIGHT**, The Grinch, as he was titled from the Who's, was not expecting to be awoken from his dog, Max. To be driven out of his home and into a blizzard to investigate a cry and to be peering down to a discolored umbrella that for an odd reason stood tall and sturdy against the harsh winds, as if the base was attached or wedged into something that carried a decent amount of weight. The fact made him curious for foreign reason, but instead of forcing back the boiling emotion inside of him he gave into it. Curiosity was the dominant emotion, his ego was the recessive. The Grinch leaned over and grabbed the pole protruding downwardly from the umbrella part and gave a quick yank. Snow broke, tumbling down onto the already snow-coated earth as the Grinch's blazing yellow eyes darkened with disappointment as a basket was revealed out from under the thick sheets of snow. _The umbrella was attached to this?_ Even though the Grinch was disappointed from his discovery, he couldn't help but catch the movement of something shifting inside the confinements of frozen stiff blankets that he had failed to see at the first discovery of the brown woven basket.

"What's this?" He mumbled, knitting his overly hairy, thick green eye brows together in confusion. The blankets—to which he could now define as the colors of green and blue—seemed to have a fast tremor to it. Drawing back the two layers of frost covered blankets; he nearly dropped the basket in shock.

There was and is something causing the blankets to quaver. Underneath the blankets laid an infant—a hairy one at that—shivering involuntarily and goose bumped from its little head to its toes. What appalled the Grinch the most was that…it was red. Tinted head-to-toe in florid hair was a baby, suffering from the first stages in hypothermia, which appeared to take on the looks of him (only color could separate them from one another).

The discovery embroiled the Grinch. Was this the cause of the crying? A baby Who, or a What—whatever it's called! Looking around, the Grinch turned around—pumbersella in hand—and stalked towards his home in a daze with Max leading. The bite of the snow seemed to not faze the Grinch now. He was too deep in thought.

The reason for his fast decision to take the baby into his home—he didn't know. Like the rhyme goes, "maybe his head just wasn't screwed on just right." Maybe he should speak to a therapist about his sanity, but his mind was slowly agreeing with the opinion given upon him. What was the mixed feelings stirring and festering inside of him? Why did he care if the baby died of hypothermia or not? Why did he have this strange sense of security that the infant would be safe? He answered himself simply with three words of, _I don't know_.

**xXxXxXxXx**

Safely returning to his residence with little complications because of Max's sensitive nose, the Grinch stride over to his bed on the upper floor of his cave to hopefully unfreeze the infant who still shivered harshly from being stuck outside in the freezing weather. Coming to a halt before his bed, he peeled off the cold sheets the baby was in wrapped, he grabbed the little hairy Who and tucked it under his bed's thick and heavy covers with stiff movements. He was above all confused over the ordeal. The main question he kept repeating in his head was why? Why did he save this Who? Why did he even care? _Why?_ He was supposed to be the 'monster' that displayed no emotions but sadness and anger, the creature that invaded children's dreams, forcing them into a nightmare. He was the Grinch who was vacant of any caring emotions to any living creature, but why did he feel the emotion of regret when it came to this child being left in the snow?

…He must be sick. That was the only other alternative. Yes, he must have the flu that's been going around Whoville. He could only guess one of those pranksters that came up to his cave to irk him had it and he perhaps in a way caught it? Or maybe when he was taking his little 'stroll' around Whoville, messing with people, he caught the fever from a Who unknowingly?

The Grinch sighed, clearly frustrated, and glanced down to the child who had at this time stopped shivering. "Whoever you are, wherever you came from, you are causing unpleasant feelings inside of me. I hope you're happy, kid." He grumbled.

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><p><strong>Edit (55/12): Edited some things up, though not everything. Hopefully it sounds a little better!**

**Chapter 2 is…finished! This is shorter than chapter 1, but it has some length. Next chapter I guess will be longer, I promise. That means that it will take longer to write, so don't expect a fast update. Thank you readers who have reviewed: **

**RitatheBettle**

**Hopeless-romance45**

**AllisonHarvardFan13 **

**Thank you so much! I appreciate you reviewing. Please review again if you liked this chapter, it shows me that you are an active reader. By the way, the Grinch is like in his…40's or something right now in the story. In the Jim Carey movie he is 56 years old, so I made him younger because then the Who baby can grow up and be in the current time line of the movie, if that makes sense. Don't worries, gender of the baby will be revealed in the next chapter? I decided to add to the suspense. Place your bets in reviewing if you'd like!**


	4. Litter Pains & Big Suprises

**Chapter 3—**

**Little Pains and Big Surprises**

WONDERFUL, JUST PLAIN OUT WONDERFUL, after a 2 hour snooze on his rugged recliner that sparkled with shattered glass scattered about from his little snacks, the thing—he up-most _refused_ to call it a What—started wailing. And what irked him the most was that, that's not the only that had happened—it threw up…on his bed. It coated his sheets with an opaque rose colored bile that stunk even worse than his dirty, never-washed socks that kept moving to one place to another around his home. He didn't know if it was the socks moving because clearly socks can't move or if it was Max. He chose the second option instead of the first one; it made more sense for a living being to move the socks than a no-celled sock. But who would dare put his socks in their mouth?

.

The baby continued to wail, wiggling its tiny fist around in the air. It was clearly in discomfort from the stomach acids spewing out of its rosy-red lips and the burning sensation that traveled from its throat to its mouth. The taste was awfully bitter, certainly not a good taste that the baby would love to taste again.

"Quiet you're whining." The Grinch grumbled, "You're giving me a migraine." The baby did not comply to his request however, instead the baby continued to cry its little heart out, paying no heed to the Grinch who had approached and was now glaring down to it.

The Grinch was beyond frustrated! How do you calm an infant down? He has never been told or shown since he ran away from Whoville to Mt. Crumpit at the age of 8. Who could learn how to take care of a child at that age? Well, certainly not him. He didn't even know how to hold one properly.

"Quiet down," he tried again, placing his oddly hairy green hands on his equally hairy hips and scowled. "You're crying about puking? Tell me about being weak! A real man would take it…Well, whatever gender you are…" he placed his thumb under his chin while his index finger, on the same hand, was placed near his cheek. He shuddered, thinking about what he would have to do to check. "I'm certainly not looki—"his eyes widened and his nose twitched to a sudden new smell in the air. "What is that stench?" The smell was not a good one. It was beyond an awful smell! He looked around, right, left, up, and down, not finding the cause of the smell until his eyes rested upon the teary-eyed, wailing, red baby.

"Oh…no…"

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'_What had I done to deserve this fate…?' _he thought angrily as he searched for some type of cloth that would serve as a diaper for the time being. _'Throwing that crying-thing out in the snow certainly sounds like a grand idea right about now!'_ The only thing The Grinch knew how to do was change a baby's diaper, he shamefully remembered. In Pre-K in Who-School Elementary, Martha May had invited him to play 'House' with her. He complied, having an awfully hard time rejecting her request. While playing he had ended up playing the role as an imaginary "daddy" and had ended up changing a mutated, teeth-bitten plastic baby Who-doll that looked more like a dog's gnawing toy then an actual doll. He remembered how Martha had shown him how to change the plastic baby's diaper. He recalled her squeaky, but non-annoying 5-year old voice boasting about how her mother had shown her how to change a diaper and when she had given it a try—changing her doll's 'dirty' diaper—for the first time, and how she had gotten it in one go. Him—he took time, but Martha was patient. It took the rest of their free-time for him to learn, but in the end when he had finally done it, Martha had given him a smooch on his cheek and a hug. Like dipping a single drop of blood in a glass of milk, his face had exploded in a vibrant blush, to which she had teased and giggled to him about.

Now, in current day, he was sort of glad he had accepted her request at playing 'House.' It was coming into use now, and there wasn't much of a difference about changing a real life baby from a plastic baby, the only thing is that the live baby's mess smelled.

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With ear plugs shoved up his nostrils, goggles over his eyes, and rusty metal tongs in hand, The Grinch slowly walked up to the glassy eyed baby who looked up to him in mild curiosity. Cautiously leaning over the baby who was spread out on his work bench that he swore he would coat 100 layers of disinfectant on the surface area where the hairy-red baby laid after this was done. The Grinch ever so slowly peeled the wings of the diaper that held it onto the child off…but then hesitated. He wasn't comfortable with this. This was so alien to him. Not only was he changing a dirty diaper, but he was going to see what the gender was so he could clarify it as a 'her' or a 'he' so he was no longer labeling it as an 'it'. But with new self-reassurance, telling himself it would be over in less than a second, he slowly pulling the front down with the tong, he nearly dropped the tong in shock. The baby was a…

_**Girl.**_

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><p>…<strong>It's a GIRL! I'm happy to say one reviewer in particular guessed right on the gender of the baby, and that was RitatheBeetle. Congratulations! I don't have anything to give, but you get honorable mention in the author's note. Anyway, I do apologize if the Grinch could possibly be out of…character… in this chapter. I wanted to make this chapter have humor in it, and that could've been the cause of a little out of character Grinch. I think I did pretty well. If you find anything that may need little editing, please review and tell me, but don't go on trying to edit the whole chapter, just point out a huge eye-catcher that needs editing, thank you. Oh, and if anyone thinks I just decided to have the baby be a girl because a lot of people guessed a boy (not saying anyone is thinking that, but it could cross anyones mind), I actually thought about the Who to be a girl before this story was created. Name of the baby won't come as fast. The Grinch, in the next chapter, is debating on what to do with the child. Really, in this chapter he's just waiting for the storm to pass over. <strong>

**Now were getting to the parts where Martha May Whovie will be mentioned. There will be interaction, but for right now it's just going to be flash backs or feelings. Thank you for the people who have reviewed. Please, if you have the time, would you mind reviewing again? I just like having some feedback on how I'm doing, really. Anyway, thank you for reading!**


	5. The Threshold to Cherishing

**No, you are not mistaken; this is a new chapter for this story. I just took chapter five and formed it together with more of what I wrote for this story…so if you already read the first part of this story, please skip ahead to where the original chapter five left off. **

**I also edited the first part of what was chapter five, so you can re-read this if you'd like. :3**

**You can probably observe of where my writing has gotten better in this story…**

**I do not own any of the characters in the movie "How the Grinch Stole Christmas", except for the red baby Who, thanks~**

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><p><em>"It is not flesh and blood but the heart which makes us fathers and sons"<em>

_~Johann Schiller_

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><p>IN THE TOWN OF WHOVILLE, the town was bustling with activity. Everywhere you looked had chattering Who's of both genders. Everyone seemed chipper, as if dancing around life's problems without a care. All seemed fine in the world, life was great, but for one Who—of What, if you'd like to call him—was not. Who was this creature you ask? Who was this Who that could not join in with other Who's joy? Ask any Who in Whoville, one name would slip their tongue. A name people feared, snickered at, or shied away from when said. A green, hairy creature with blazing, gold irises that held so much pain, sadness, and emptiness in its cradle—this Who was a creature who was feared by all. One simple "boo" that would escape the creatures pinkish lips could make a whole city of Who's shy away from in fear. This was truly a treacherous 'monster.' But who is it, you may ask? Who fits the description of this horrifying monster—The Grinch?<p>

.

Music sang out in a beautiful beat out of a horn of a clarinet while others played along with different instruments. All musicians were cued on to play by a conductor who was adorned in a green, yellow, and red outfit that fit rather snuggly. Though there was not a single sign of discomfort on the man's face as his hands danced out in front of him as one hand pinched a thin, small, black wand. The conductor who wore a cheeky grin on his florid, chubby face as he walked backwards in front of the band marched through the snow coated streets as bystanders danced along with joyous smiles blossomed across their faces. Some Who-children skipped along behind the band, twirling and laughing.

The Grinch watched on from the side, not liking the sounds he was hearing emoting from the instruments. In fact he hated the music; it seemed as if it was burning his ears! Scowling towards the gay Who-people and the band, he marched off into a different, less crowded street in Whoville.

You may question as to why, dear reader, the people of Whoville did not scream away in fear of the Grinch's face as he walked down the streets. Well, instead of just walking around practically naked (his hair does cover necessary places), he was dressed in a not-so-fancy cloak with a cream-colored, buck-teethed, flimsy plastic mask that looked like a Who, in a very odd, twisted way. His partner that walked on four legs beside him was his dog Max. But in the Grinch's arms however was a baby Who, well…. a hairy red one. Though the hair was covered in blankets found in the pumbersella that this Who was delivered in. The blankets by now were thawed out and back to their warm fuzzy-ness, a good thing for the Grinch because if not for that, he wouldn't have anything for this baby to be covered in.

You might as well ask as to why The Grinch was down in Whoville instead of in his lair inside Mt. Crumpit, well… let's just begin and say that The Grinch was growing tired of this thing that came down to his self-proclaimed mountain. What drove his feet down to this village was the growing ache and questions that pummeled it into his brain about the child held in his grasp. Why did he care about it? Why did he care for its safety? The Grinch also had peculiar feelings swelling inside of him, starting in his stomach all the way through his heart…the feeling was absolutely sickening. Worse part about it was that he didn't know what the feeling was. The feeling was sort of in a way like his feelings towards Martha May Whovie, but different as it was not romantic emotions.

_"Excuse me!"_ a rather deep female's voice broke him out of his thoughts as he accidently ran into her. The woman he ran into had her hand placed on her chest, gaping at him. "Well…aren't you going to apologize for so _rudely_ bumping into me?"

The Grinch growled lowly in irritation before rolling his eyes…though the woman couldn't see him do that action. "I don't believe I say _sorry_ to anyone" he growled.

The woman gasped at what he said, "Excuse me? Well, I never... I never met a Who as _rude_ as you, _sir_!"

The Grinch just walked off without a word, attempting to ignore her comment following his departure, _"such a bad role model for his child,"_ and paying more attention to where he was walking. Usually he wouldn't mind purposely running into a couple of pedestrians, but at this moment, he just wanted this baby in his arms out of his hair.

Looking up at him with two shimmering pools of green, the baby Who's stare became half-massed as she watched her disguised hero tower over her. Reaching up with one small scarlet hand that was covered in a layer of fur, she tugged on the mask veiling the Grinch's face with a short line of burbles escaping her rosy lips that drooled out saliva from the corner of her mouth. Looking down with an invisible glare that escaped the newborns stare from the mask, he grumbled out a train of curses as his hand pushed away the younger child's strong grip.

"No tugging on the mask," he warned with a small wave of his index finger which quickly became encircled in the bone-crushing grasp of the baby who squealed in delight from her won prize. Shaking his head with a soft grunt, the Grinch didn't bother removing his finger from the small female who stared up at the hairy green finger in wonder. "You're certainly an odd child," his cheeks became dusted in a blush of pink as an odd warm feeling pooled into his stomach, causing him to flinch from its intensity.

_"U-um, s-sir…"_ a soft voice from below brought back his attention to the outside world, but not before causing him to jump in surprise from the sudden murmur.

Looking down in the direction of his feet, two small eyes the color of winter moss looked up at him behind a long hanging curtain of bronze hair that shined and clumped from grease. Skin a pasty white with black circlets encircling its sunken eyes, the child reached up with an arm that looked as if its bones would pop out of its skin, the boney adolescent showed off decaying yellowed teeth in a smile that had gaps in some parts from a missing tooth. "C-could'ja spares some m-money to the less fortunate…" pulling up the sagging sleeve of a ragged cloth that pathetically served as clothing up its shoulder, the Grinch found himself almost pitying the kid as he saw the small figure held the burdens of Whoville's imperfections on its small, thin shoulders – sort of like him in a way.

After a mental slap to his mind from the emotions festering inside of him, the Grinch attempted to recollect himself with a struggle as the sight before him continued to draw out the foreign sympathy towards the younger one. Turning his head to the side with a snort, the Grinch rolled his shoulders back as his invisible stare wandered off to the free-falling clouds that sprinkled the world in white. Snow leaked off from the lip of the child's eye lash that continued to gaze up at the disguised man with an air of innocence and naivety.

"Look kid, I don't exactly have anything that could benefit you with anything, so scram." He became surprised that the child seemed unaffected from his words, but instead continued to look up at him but in conformity and sympathy while its body quavered in the bite of the cold. Out of his peripheral view the Grinch felt his heart flutter at the feeble appearance of the youngster.

"It hurts, doesn't it?" He seemed surprised from the question passed through blue, cracked lips of the small one at his feet. "Your heart…its hurts…You may deny it at first, but it's there."

He snorted while turning his head to the side, gazing over at his dog that looked up at him with brown, milky eyes that caused him to swallow hard.

The image of a charlatan of the man before it shattered, only leaving the site of someone who held the carved figure of a man casted out of society, whose person was morphed from Who-manity's cynical, feeble-minded citizens that's propulsion towards others differences formed him to his current state. Reaching up to the Grinch's now free and hanging palm, the small child's fingers embraced the hand as white-cotton flurries melted on its small stub of a vibrant pink nose. "But…you have that child there for you, the one in your arms…a gift from the skies as the Who-God's took sympathy on your aching heart and sent the baby to you to help heal your aching wounds…" Closing away irises that drifted between the shade of green and gray with ghastly lids, the child blushed while reveling in its fever, "Don't let their gift to you go in vain…" The small Who backed away from the disguised man, releasing its embrace on the hairy grip of the green What, the child beamed up at him with snowflakes gluing themselves to the long clumped traces of brown hair.

He looked down with furrowed brows, "I cannot learn to love or cherish…"

The child still held its almost toothless smile towards him, _"Maybe part of loving is learning to let go."_

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><p><strong>The new, more better chapter of "Whoville" is here~ I hope everyone likes it. I loved writing this, and after watching the movie "Keif" it has raised a new arising inspiration for this story. <strong>

**The child actually says a quote I found online and made due of working it in here, it's by: From the television show ****_The Wonder Years._**

**So the little Who in here is not specified to be neither boy or girl as it's a minor character that will most likely be cut from this story. Next chapter will have the revealing of the baby's name and more~**

**Hopefully I can get some of my old readers back…umm...I'm going to be writing the next chapter today. **


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